


and the curtain falls

by sketchedsilmaril



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Episode: s02e22 Twilight of the Apprentice Part 2, Gen, Vader POV, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 04:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18336278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketchedsilmaril/pseuds/sketchedsilmaril
Summary: For the first time in years, Vader feels the wind on his face.(this is the first time in so long, the first time in years that she hears that voice, pure and unbroken, not distorted by the compressed echo of a holocron or the dream-like haze of her visions)





	and the curtain falls

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before World Between Worlds, but it's still sufficiently vague that it's pretty much canon-compliant imo.

For the first time in years, Vader feels the wind on his face. His vision blurs for moment, the shock of seeing vivid red and violet flashing and crackling before his eyes after years of flat red and black too much for him to bear. The sound of a hideous, rattling gasping grates upon his ears—it vaguely startles him to realize that they are his own. For a moment, Vader can do nothing but kneel, back bowing into himself, the acrid smell of freshly burnt plastic and something Dark and more sinister rising to fill his nose, overwhelming him with nearly forgotten sensations.  
  
His vision clears, and he sees _her_.

The apprentice is facing away, slowly climbing back to her knees. She shakes her head, as if momentarily stunned by the momentum of her adrenaline-filled strike. Well, hadn’t she always had an impulsive streak? Reckless enough to face him, reckless enough to deny the Empire for years, reckless enough to pull down a wall of stone on her master on Christophsis, reckless enough throw herself into the rain, down, down, down into the Coruscant underworld even though _he asked her to trust him_ —

—Her friends are shouting urgently, beckoning her to their ship.

Leaving. She's leaving.

_She's leaving again_.  
  
And before Vader can stop himself, before he can quash it, the traitorous, ghostly voice of Anakin Skywalker calls out, shivering through the air.

  
  
Ahsoka.

  
  
_Ahsoka._

  
  
Ahsoka pauses, turns, eyes wide, and looks upon the face of her master.

(this is the first time in so long, the first time in years that she hears that voice, pure and unbroken, not distorted by the compressed echo of a holocron or the dream-like haze of her visions)

Her face twists, eyes glimmering with something other than the lights of the crumbling temple, as she whispers back the name of a dead man.

  
  
_Anakin._

  
  
The sound of his gasping breath becomes louder. It's getting a little harder to breathe now, his respirator damaged by her blow. Anakin staggers to his feet. Ahsoka, too, rises. Emotions flicker across her face. Disbelief. Longing. Pain. And finally, resolve.  
  
“I won't leave you. Not this time.”  
  
(deep inside, ever since she reached out to the sith lord in the tie fighter, ahsoka knew that she had already known with a terrible certainty of vader’s true identity. and for many nights after the encounter, her dreams were haunted with shades of anakin, of how she hadn’t been brave enough to look anakin in the eye as she left, of how she had thought _next time_ when anakin parted from her on mandalore. and after the jedi temple on lothal, when her nebulous fears and doubts crystallized into the accusing voice of her master, ahsoka knew then, too, with the same terrible certainty, of the decision she would make.)  
  
He exhales, a terrible rattle of a breath. For a moment, he allows his mind to wander, to remember the faded memory of wrapping his arms around his padawan and squeezing her tight, promising himself he would protect this person, that he would never let anything bad happen to her. He feels a bone-deep weariness, weighing down on his mechanical joints. He is tired. Tired of all this. Tired of people leaving him. His mother. Obi-wan. Padme (by his hand). Ahsoka.

She already left, long ago. He failed her. He let her leave. No, no, that wasn’t right. No, she failed _him_. Wasn’t that what Obi-Wan had implied in his infuriatingly polite way, what he himself had said out loud to Obi-Wan? She hadn’t been there when he needed her by his side. She left him. _She left him.  
_  
And the anger, the hate, the fear bubbles back up in him, a twisted black mass eating away at his core, making him stronger. She left him. It's over now.  This was a story   
  
_Then you will die._  
  
She doesn’t say anything, but the proud jut of her chin and her firm stance are answer enough. Her eyes are the clearest blue, like his are (were).  
  
Vader swings his light saber down as her white sabers flash up to clash with his. For all her defiance, he knows she is tiring, drained from their fight and her fall, knows with the certainty of someone who watched and trained her for years. Vaguely, he wonders what happened to her old sabers (the ones he proudly watched her make).  
  
The temple shakes and rumbles and the world is falling apart and Ahsoka is falling and Anakin reaches out with the Force—

\---  
  
The temple lies behind him, smoking in its ruins. His respirator is at its limit. He doesn't know what happened to the apprentice, but he can't feel her. If she survived, Malachor will not allow it. A convor screeches through the gloom, sending a chill down his spine.

  
Limping, Vader leaves.

\---  
  
Deep in the bowels of Malachor, Ahsoka Tano steps into the inky waters and ascends.


End file.
